


Praetor, Praetor, Predator

by ruination_fangs



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Werewolves, mild body horror, would-be horror au turned disgustingly domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruination_fangs/pseuds/ruination_fangs
Summary: Rumor has it Eastgand is infested with werewolves. Eleanor really thought they'd be easier to find.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this for the "storybook" prompt for Tales of Femslash Week, but moved it to the free-for-all day because it sort of became less fairytale and more plain fantasy. it also grew a lot longer than I intended, so expect at least one more chapter of this......

The exorcist comes to Taliesin at the end of summer.

She has all the sharp orderliness and seriousness of a soldier, even though she looks to be hardly more than a girl. Fist tight around the shaft of her spear, she introduces herself as Eleanor Hume, hunter of werewolves and demons.

Velvet watches with barely-concealed disdain from across the tavern. So earnest, so eager. She's probably never set foot in Eastgand in her life before now, and yet here she is to save them all from the plague. Typical.

Never moving from her spot in the corner, she listens to what fragments of conversation she can hear as the exorcist talks to the townspeople. They have little to report, of course. Taliesin isn't in nearly as bad a shape as some of the western continents, according to the news the sailors bring. So much for the power of the capital, then.

But the townsfolk, eager to once again have in their midst someone capable of standing up to werewolves, will surely offer up every scrap of information they can. Velvet stands, tosses a few gald on the table, and heads for the door. It's only a matter of time before someone mentions Aball.

 

* * *

 

"Excuse me, are you Velvet Crowe?"

Velvet finishes pocketing her earnings and looks up, immediately narrowing her eyes when she sees the exorcist standing before her. With her red hair and fancy clothing, it hasn't been difficult for Velvet to see her coming and make a quick exit, but there are some errands Velvet can't escape.

"Who wants to know?" she growls, even though the answer is obvious.

"I'm Eleanor Hume. I'm an exorcist." She offers a hand, and then hesitantly pulls it back when Velvet makes absolutely no move to respond.

"I was told you used to live in Aball," she goes on, with only a slight falter. "Would you mind telling me about it?"

Velvet takes a few paces to the side, away from the door of the butcher's shop, and the exorcist scrambles to keep up.

"There's not much to tell. It's a ghost town now."

"Yes, that's exactly why I'm here. I've heard there was an outbreak there, and there's no exorcist to ward off any stray demons."

Velvet scoffs. "That old rumor was started years ago. Don't you think you're a little late?"

At least the exorcist has the decency to look somewhat abashed, rubbing the toe of one foot against the cobblestones beneath her. "Yes, well, I was taught that the most populated areas... Anyway, the important thing is that I'm here now."

"Good for you." Velvet turns around, her old coat and long, barely-braided hair swinging behind her. "I don't know what you think you're going to find. Aball is gone. That's all there is to it."

She only gets a few steps away before something latches onto her arm, and she turns, stopping abruptly.

"But I need to know why!" the exorcist insists. "Everyone I've talked to says the village just disappeared. You lived there, right? Surely you know what happened."

Velvet stares at where the exorcist's fingers still grip her wrist, and the younger girl quickly withdraws her hands and folds them behind her back, starting to blush.

"No," Velvet says, already turning away again. "I've lived here for the past several years. I can't explain it either."

This time the exorcist doesn't follow her.

 

* * *

 

The full moon comes with a new air of expectation. If there are any stray werewolves lurking around the town, tonight is the one night they can't hide what they really are.

At the very least, Velvet can applaud the exorcist for sticking around this long with no leads. If she has one thing going for her, it's her stubborn determination to finish the job she came to do.

Well, that, or her good looks. She might be charming if she wasn't so obnoxious.

She's easy enough to spot; almost no one goes out on full moons unless they have to, even in Taliesin, which hasn't seen any more than distant howling in years. She roams the moonlit streets with her spear, investigating every alley, occasionally jumping at sudden sounds.

It's rumored that exorcists have a sense for these things, some innate ability to feel the supernatural nearby. That and their specialized training in fighting monsters is why most people rely on them to purge demons from their neighborhoods, rather than hunting them down themselves.

So much for that. The night passes, and when dawn breaks, the exorcist still hasn't found a thing.

 

* * *

 

For some reason, she doesn't leave.

"Can I buy you another drink?" she asks, standing by Velvet's table in the tavern.

Velvet's eyes shift up from the glass in her hand. "I won't say no."

The exorcist then sits down across from her, politely flagging over a busboy to put in an order. As soon as he's gone, she places her elbows on the table and stares Velvet down.

"I'd like to ask you some more questions."

Velvet shrugs. "You can try. But I already told you, I have nothing to say."

"Entire villages don't just disappear. Unless they..."

For a moment the exorcist's forehead scrunches. Still annoyed at her intrusion, Velvet goes ahead and attacks while she can.

"Unless they what? All become monsters?" Her lips raise almost in a sneer.

The exorcist's voice is surprisingly small. "Or are attacked by them." But when she looks up, there's steel in her eyes again. "I need to know. It is an exorcist's duty to protect the people, and I can't do that unless I understand what's going on."

"What good will it do?" Velvet leans back in her chair. "That was years ago. You can't change it now."

"No, but perhaps I can stop similar incidents from occurring. Or help purge the remaining werewolves, if they're still nearby. Or at least we can put the rumors to rest, and pray for the souls that were lost..."

Velvet snorts. Silence falls between them for a moment while the busboy places two new glasses on the table. Velvet reaches for one and sniffs it; it's the same thing she was just drinking, cold and unsweetened and non-alcoholic.

"Even if you left Aball before it happened," the exorcist goes on once they're alone again, "surely you still had acquaintances there? Friends, family?"

Velvet tenses. Her hand grips her glass so tightly it almost hurts, and she takes a long drink.

"No," she says, wiping a droplet off the edge of her lips with her thumb. "I have no family anymore. I lost contact with my friend there, and the next time I was in town, it was empty. That's all I can tell you."

"No signs of a struggle? No bodies? It wasn't as if they packed up and left, right?"

"Everything was left exactly as it used to be," Velvet says firmly.

The exorcist crosses her arms and hums. For a minute Velvet just sips her drink and takes in the noise of the tavern around her, until the exorcist's voice gets her attention again.

"I think I'll need to head there myself to investigate. I hear you're a hunter, correct? You hunt prickleboars in the forests between here and Aball?"

"Yes. What of it?"

Suddenly the exorcist smiles. "I was hoping you might accompany me to the village. As a guide, and escort. I'll pay you, of course."

Velvet sets her drink down, watching the exorcist carefully. Most of her is screaming to say no, turn her down and never see her again. But her smile seems so genuine (and honestly really pretty), and besides, what can it hurt? Maybe once she sees Aball herself, she'll hurry up and leave.

"Fine," Velvet says. "But don't drag me into your little investigation. I'm only going to take you there and bring you back."

 

* * *

 

Nothing and nobody greets them at the entrance to Aball. It's exactly as Velvet last saw it; the houses, the shop in the main square, the tools still leaning against fences, never to be put back to work. Dead leaves coat the ground while more drift down from the trees, and weeds spill out of their gardens and into the dirt streets.

"This is Aball?" the exorcist says. "I suppose I'll take a look around..."

Velvet rolls her eyes. "Knock yourself out. I'm going to go hunting in the woods on the other side of town. You'd better be ready to go when I come back."

She marches off without waiting for a reply, her boots crunching against the ground, and puts the exorcist and Aball out of her mind until she returns in the late afternoon with her prey. The prickleboars are just as abundant and easy to catch as they were years ago; perhaps moreso, now that there are no humans left here to hunt them regularly.

There's no trace of the exorcist, but for a few places where the piled up leaves have been kicked aside to uncover something. Velvet makes a quick sweep of the area, but doesn't find her. Scowling, she trudges up the road to the final corner of the town.

Like the rest of the village, her old house and its garden are covered in leaves and moss. Velvet quickly looks away from the familiar door, and her eyes land on the tiny memorial across the yard, and then the exorcist in front of it.

She's on her knees, hands clasped before her chest, lips moving silently. Velvet watches from the road. The weathered old graves are adorned with a handful of fresh flowers.

Her desire to chide the exorcist inexplicably dies on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she turns around and heads back to the village entrance. She can wait a few more minutes.

 

* * *

 

Velvet has barely sat down when the exorcist approaches her and offers to pay for her meal.

She raises an eyebrow. "Why? You know I have nothing left to tell you about Aball." That story is over. Why is she even still here?

"I don't want to talk about Aball," Eleanor says, sitting down. "I just want to talk."

She smiles, and for some reason Velvet doesn't chase her away.

 

* * *

 

The woods are quiet today. Small creatures scamper away from the sound of careless footsteps on dead leaves, and the breeze rattles the increasingly bare branches, but other than that, all is still.

Velvet could be hunting, but the exorcist never lets the silence settle for long. Her voice alone might be scaring off all the prey. Luckily Velvet didn't come to hunt; when she agreed to show the exorcist around the outskirts of town, it didn't feel like she was being hired for a job, and the lack of productivity isn't annoying her as much as it could.

Still, she thinks the exorcist could probably learn more about her surroundings by using her eyes and ears than her mouth.

"Do you ever stop asking questions?"

Velvet's tone is flat, but the exorcist still looks a little alarmed. "I'm sorry," she says, "I just want to get to know more about this area. And about..."

She doesn't finish the thought, and Velvet doesn't pursue it. The silence doesn't feel right, however, and a few moments later Velvet shrugs.

"I don't really mind. I just don't see why you care so much."

"I just do." The exorcist pauses before venturing, "Since you don't mind, though, can I ask something more personal?"

"I can't stop you."

"Why do you keep your arm wrapped up like that?"

Velvet glances down at her left arm. Some of the bandages around her wrist are starting to come loose; she tightens them up and gives her forearm a shake.

"When I first saw you I thought perhaps you were injured," the exorcist goes on when Velvet doesn't reply. "But it's been several weeks, and..."

Velvet shrugs again. "It's just an old scar, that's all."

"Oh..." Eleanor's eyes soften. "Is it painful?"

Something about the look on her face catches Velvet by surprise. She's not sure what sense of "painful" she means.

"Yes," she answers anyway. "But don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

Eleanor presses one hand lightly against her sternum and says, "I understand."

Velvet cocks an eyebrow. Wariness is second nature to her, but something makes her suspect Eleanor's empathy isn't entirely superficial this time.

"Come on," Velvet says, beckoning her onward. "I'll take you as far as the river."

They continue on through the woods in relative silence, Velvet watching Eleanor a little more closely. Maybe there's more to the exorcist than she thought.

 

* * *

 

Watching the boats rock in the harbor, Velvet finally asks, "So do you live here now or something? You don't seem like you're intending to leave."

Eleanor turns to lean her back against the low wall and look straight up. Clouds have been hovering over the horizon all evening, and in the light of the sunset they now paint the sky a brilliant array of oranges and grays.

"To be honest, I've been wondering the same thing myself. I've already stayed longer than I planned, and not accomplished what I meant to do. Perhaps Taliesin just doesn't need an exorcist..."

Velvet doesn't reply. Eventually Eleanor turns to look at her.

"I like it here, though," she says, and smiles, and Velvet's heart skips a beat.

By the time they reach the inn where Eleanor has been staying, the streets are growing empty and the sun is almost gone. Both of them stop to the side of the door. Velvet is still searching for something to say when Eleanor suddenly leans forward to kiss her on the cheek.

She can't help the heat that spreads across her face, and thanks the Empyreans that it's already so dark.

"Good night," Eleanor says softly, reaching for the door. "I'll see you soon, I hope."

"Yeah," Velvet breathes.

 

* * *

 

"So how long have you lived here?"

Eleanor's gaze travels slowly across the room, taking in the simple furniture and scant decorations. From where she stands by the door, she can see both Velvet's low bed to one side and the kitchen to the other.

Velvet heads for the latter and reaches up to a cupboard. "A few years, I guess."

"Ah. It's very... clean."

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

Behind her, Eleanor laughs. Velvet keeps her head down over the counter to make sure Eleanor can't see her smile.

"Somehow it's very like you," Eleanor says warmly, coming to join her. "Though I'm not sure where I'm going to sit."

"Oh..." Velvet sets down a large bowl and scratches her cheek, flushing the slightest bit. "It's just me here, and I never have visitors, so..."

But Eleanor smiles. "I understand. Perhaps we could take our dinner outside and have a picnic? It must be lovely to have the woods right outside your house like this."

"It's... convenient," Velvet mutters.

"We'll have to see if the weather holds until we're done. What can I do to help?"

Velvet sets back to work gathering supplies on the tiny counter. "You don't have to do anything. It's not much of a thank-you dinner if I make you prepare it."

Eleanor doesn't budge from Velvet's side. "I can't just sit back and watch you do all the work yourself. Besides, you don't owe me anything. I didn't pay for those meals expecting something in return."

"Yes, but..." Velvet's hand lingers on the counter, curling slightly.

"Let's do it together," Eleanor says. Her fingers brush across the back of Velvet's hand, and Velvet stops arguing.

 

* * *

 

She really hadn't meant to stay this late.

In fact, she hadn't meant to be home at all today. She was going to leave in the morning for an overnight hunting expedition, but somehow, in that obnoxiously charming way of hers, Eleanor had convinced her to stay until the afternoon. And then dinner, and then after-dinner drinks, and then the full moon was rising above the tops of the trees.

The moment she looks out the window, Velvet curses under her breath and abruptly stands, rushing out the door. "Velvet!?" Eleanor calls after her, but Velvet doesn't stop.

Luckily, she knows this area like the back of her hand. Her feet carry her into the woods even in the dark, until she's surrounded by trees and little moonlight filters in. When she stops moving, the only sound to fill the air is her own ragged panting.

Not that it matters. Eleanor is naive, but she's not too stupid to put two and two together.

Velvet presses a hand to her forehead, groaning, and then strangles the noise off when she hears something behind her. The bushes rustle; she twists around just in time to see a human shape emerge from the shadows, cautious and smelling of fear.

"Velvet?" she asks quietly. "What's going on?"

"Like you don't know!" Velvet snaps, backing up. Damn her, damn her intuition, damn wherever the whole concept of exorcists came from. Maybe there's something to those supernatural senses after all.

Eleanor doesn't move any closer, but Velvet can see her spear in her hand.

"I..." the exorcist starts, while Velvet clamps down on her left arm with her other hand. "You can't be... You seemed so..."

It's too late anyway; her arm bulges until the bandages start to rip off. They fall in tatters to the ground, revealing the muscled arm beneath, skin scored by several sets of teethmarks.

Eleanor doesn't have long to marvel at the scars before hair begins growing rapidly from Velvet's arm. And not just that arm - her right as well, and her legs, and even her shoulders. Her left hand has become completely furry, fingers molded into sharp claws twitching in the air.

"That's the thing your kind always fails to understand about werewolves," Velvet says before the transformation reaches her face. "Every other day of the month, we're just like you."

Eleanor stares, and lets her spear fall to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning after a full moon is always terrible. There's an adrenaline that kicks in after the transformation, a thrill that makes it incredibly difficult to resist a good howl and hunt. Velvet always spends the night stalking through the woods as far away from town as she can get, and crawls back in the morning exhausted and disgusted with herself.

Normally she would go right to sleep, but today there's a slight problem: the exorcist is in her bed.

A stab of alarm jolts her into temporary wakefulness. Of course. The exorcist knew she could never catch a werewolf on foot, so she waited at the one place she could be sure Velvet would come back to, to take her out when she's weak and less wild.

But she's fallen asleep, and missed her chance. Velvet's heart pounds with a different kind of adrenaline as she approaches the bed, reaching for the knife she keeps nearby. It's the only way to assure that her secret doesn't get out...

And then the exorcist groans softly and turns over. Her eyelashes flutter; the light hits them, and her eyes snap open. Velvet has one last chance to strike before the exorcist can defend herself.

"You're back," Eleanor whispers. Her eyes rove over Velvet's body. No surprise - her clothes are undoubtedly ripped, and she's probably dirty to boot, not to mention swaying on her feet.

"I am," Velvet agrees. "And you're in my bed."

Eleanor's eyes widen, and she scrambles off the bed, still keeping a good foot away from Velvet. If Velvet was more awake, she might make a sneering comment about that, but as it is she can only wonder why the exorcist hasn't taken the offensive yet.

Instead, for some reason she looks unsure what to do. "I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep waiting for you..."

Velvet stands by the bed, eyeing her carefully - but she makes no move to pick up her spear, just continues talking.

"I didn't know what... I mean, I was hoping we could talk, but you look ready to keel over. I suppose you should rest first."

Images flash in Velvet's head, of the exorcist waiting for her to fall asleep before approaching with her weapon. A weak, sleeping animal - the easiest prey imaginable.

Everything she knows about Eleanor rages against the idea. There's nothing but concern showing in her bright green eyes as she waits for Velvet to climb into the bed. She wouldn't have it in her to deceive anyone like that. Too honorable to fight someone incapacitated, too honest to lie. Too soft for murder.

...She thinks. Her head swims, and she totters the last step to the bed and collapses on top of the blankets.

At least if she's wrong, it'll be a quick and painless end.

 

* * *

 

She wakes to the smell of food cooking. At first she thinks she must be imagining it, but when she groans and opens her eyes, she sees the exorcist is still in her house, and currently sprinkling berries into a bowl.

Velvet sits up and feels her stomach churn. The taste of blood lingers in the back of her mouth, and there's dirt caked under her fingernails. Damn, she didn't even think about making sure she was full before the transformation started. She hopes she didn't eat anything that'll make her too sick; a hazy memory makes her think it was just a wild rabbit, but she can't be sure.

"Oh, you're awake." The exorcist has paused her preparations and is watching Velvet expectantly.

"What are you doing?" Velvet asks.

The exorcist looks at the bowls. "I made some oatmeal. I thought you might be hungry after last night. And honestly I was getting pretty hungry too," she admits a little bashfully.

Velvet tries to push away the part of her that finds that shy smile cute. "No, why are you still here? Why didn't you..."

Eleanor's eyes widen. "Why wouldn't I be? We didn't exactly get to talk last night, or this morning."

There's a long pause. For some reason, the words Velvet wants to say get stuck on her tongue.

Finally, she manages, "You're an exorcist. I'm a werewolf."

When she looks at Eleanor, the exorcist's expression is pained. She doesn't move from where she sits near the fireplace.

"I can't kill you, Velvet," she whispers.

Velvet gazes at her evenly. "So you're quitting being an exorcist?"

"No- Well, I mean, I..." Eleanor looks away. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but..." She fixes her eyes back on Velvet. "Will you talk to me now?"

For several moments Velvet only stares at the low fire behind the exorcist. Then she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and forces herself to her feet to join Eleanor in the center of the room.

 

* * *

 

It was a slaughter worthy of werewolves' bad reputations. In the end, all it takes is one to infect an entire population.

It started with her sister. When the werewolves attacked the village, they zeroed in on the Crowes' house on the outskirts of town. Velvet remembers asking Arthur why the rest of the villagers closed their doors instead of coming to fight, and the fire in his eyes when he answered.

"They don't want to end up like her," he said, staring down at Celica. The bitemarks scored both her legs, and she had developed a fever before they healed.

There was no hiding it. At the next full moon, Celica transformed, and Arthur was unable to keep her bound. In the frenzy of her first transformation and her lingering fever, she rampaged through the village.

The villagers responded the only way they knew how: they killed her.

"It's a shame," Velvet remembers them saying. "Celica was such a nice girl. If only she hadn't been infected..."

Velvet didn't understand. Wasn't she still a nice girl? She would have turned back at the end of the night - if only she hadn't been murdered...

But that wasn't the end of it. Despite all hopes, others had already been infected, and at the next full moon - a scarlet moon, a night rumored to give strength to demons and the diseases that produce them - there were too many to stop. The infection spread right before their eyes, until almost the entire village (or at least, those still alive) had turned.

Velvet remembers that best of all. She remembers someone attacking her - based on the shorts and red shirt she thinks it was the boy from across town, though it was hard to tell - and her left arm burning from several bloody wounds. She remembers her neighbors fleeing, some escaping into the woods still human, some transforming before her eyes, some lying motionless on the ground. She remembers Arthur, the village's only exorcist, taking up his sword in his good hand and striking down every werewolf he could find.

"You heard them," he reminded Velvet in a tone as cold as ice. "They don't believe in letting werewolves roam free."

She may have been able to bear it, if not for the one crumpled body she found in the center of the village, smaller than the rest. Laphicet wasn't even in his teens yet, and had been sick most of his life. It wasn't that much of a surprise that he of all people didn't make it through the night. The real surprise was the clean slash across his chest - not the mark of claws or teeth, but of a blade.

By dawn things had quieted down. All the villagers had either escaped - human or werewolf - or already gasped out their last breaths. Artorius Collbrande stood alone outside the town, propped on his bloody sword, completely still. Velvet could hardly see straight when she approached him.

She waited, and she waited longer. Artorius didn't move. Whatever stony resolve had carried him through the night seemed to have been worn down; he had no interest in raising his sword against his sister-in-law.

He was easy prey. Velvet is sickened to remember the triumph that ripped through her when her claws ripped through his battered body, even though she doesn't regret it.

She can't regret it. Laphicet had to be avenged. Arthur was tired of this life. The instinct to kill had already made its way bone-deep in her new body.

After all, werewolves and exorcists are natural enemies.

 

* * *

 

"So what about you?" Velvet asks, sitting on the log between her house and the forest. The morning has been chilly, but weak sunlight warms her skin enough for it not to bother her.

Eleanor turns around. "Hmm?" Her hands, folded behind her back, are still dirty from pulling out the weeds in the little patch of garden outside the house.

"What made you want to be an exorcist?"

Unsurprisingly, Eleanor doesn't answer right away. Instead she looks off to the side, at the forest. Velvet waits.

Finally, Eleanor says, "It was a werewolf attack. My village... just like yours, it was wiped out."

Velvet's eyebrows raise. Eleanor goes on, "I don't know if anyone was infected. The wolves that descended on the village were beastly. I think everyone either fled or was killed before they could be turned. My mother... died protecting me, so I was left alone."

A bird chirps nearby. Eleanor's gaze stays fixed somewhere in the distance.

"And that's why you became an exorcist?"

As if the question reminds her where she is, Eleanor dusts off her hands and moves to sit next to Velvet.

"I suppose. You know how the world is... People see werewolves as animals. I truly believed that everyone would be safer if the werewolves were exterminated. No one else would have to go through what I went through."

Velvet doesn't reply, and after a moment Eleanor goes on, "Of course, when people spoke of demons, all I could imagine were the monsters that killed my mother. Not the humans suffering from the infection. So when merchants brought over the rumor that Eastgand had had an outbreak, it sounded like the perfect opportunity for me. I knew the wolves in Eastgand couldn't possibly be the same ones who attacked my village, but I think a part of me felt that if I could kill a werewolf my mother would be avenged..."

When she looks up at Velvet she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes at all. "Stupid, right?"

Velvet only shrugs. "Don't ask me. I killed the human who killed my little brother. If I hadn't gotten my revenge there, who knows what I might have done to find it."

"That's right," Eleanor murmurs. "You wanted to avenge your family, too..." She tilts her head back to look up at the sky, and says louder, "It's kind of odd, isn't it?"

Velvet doesn't follow her eyes. "What?"

"We actually have shared quite similar experiences. And yet..."

After a moment, Velvet snorts, and leans back to look up too. "It's not that hard to understand. I got bitten and you didn't."

"I suppose that's what makes all the difference," Eleanor says. "It could so easily have been me and not you..."

Suddenly Velvet stands, brushing the debris off her pants. "Well, there's no point dwelling on what's already done. How about we get lunch? I'm starving."

She holds out her hand to help Eleanor up. When Eleanor's gaze drifts back down from the sky to Velvet's face, she studies Velvet curiously, but this time her smile is genuine.

 

* * *

 

Velvet looks up at the several floors of the inn. She's stayed here herself, of course - back when she was a kid and couldn't make the trip from Aball twice in one day. But that was a long time ago, and it looks different now, smaller somehow.

"How can you afford to stay here so long?" she asks. "You rich or something?"

"Not at all," Eleanor says beside her, still in the process of pinning her hair up. "The proprietor of the inn actually gave me a very discounted rate. As thanks for protecting the town..."

She trails off. It takes Velvet only one glance at her face to figure out what she's thinking.

But a moment later she lowers her hands from her pigtails and shakes her head. "I've been meaning to talk to him about it. I'm sure neither of us expected me to be here this long, and I don't want to overstay my welcome." She looks honestly troubled as she continues, "It's just that I don't know if I can afford the standard price for long..."

"So you're planning to stay?" Despite her heart suddenly leaping in her chest, Velvet tries not to sound too desperate for an answer. "Your mission here failed. Don't you want to go home?"

"I wouldn't say it _failed_ ," Eleanor argues. Velvet raises an eyebrow, and Eleanor glances away. "But I... I do want to stay. Even if I'm not... exorcising anything, I don't have much to go back to, either. I lived temporarily with the exorcists who trained me, and I sold most of my possessions for travel funds... So this is as good a place as any to find something new."

Warmth bubbles up in Velvet's chest as she hears Eleanor's decision. Perhaps that's why, against her better judgment and despite the nervous buzzing in her brain, she says, "Well, if you don't have anywhere else, you could come to my place."

Eleanor's head snaps up, and Velvet fixes her gaze on the lamppost down the street.

"I mean, it's pretty small," she goes on, "so you'd have to sleep on the rug in front of the fireplace. But you wouldn't have to pay."

Several seconds pass before Eleanor replies. "...Why?"

Velvet looks back at her, eyebrows rising. "Why?"

"Why would you want me to stay with you?" Despite her tone, Eleanor's cheeks are darkening, catching Velvet off guard. "Are you trying to keep tabs on me?"

There's caution in her eyes, and Velvet is reminded of her own reservations, the image of the exorcist stabbing her in her sleep. She frowns, but she can't be surprised that Eleanor would have the same fears. She'd be living with a _beast_ , after all.

"I just thought it'd be easier for you," Velvet says, feeling oddly disappointed. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

But Eleanor immediately softens. "Actually, I... I think I'd like that. As long as you're sure I won't be in the way."

Velvet shrugs. "Just clean up after yourself. Now are we going to the market or not? I don't want to stand here all day."

"Oh!" Eleanor checks her hair one more time and straightens out her dress. "Yes, I'm ready. I suppose the rest can wait until afterwards..."

Already walking away, Velvet doesn't reply, but a strange mix of excitement and trepidation grips her as she begins making plans.

 

* * *

 

"Velvet, there's something I've been wondering..."

Eleanor nudges the biggest log in the fireplace, and then draws back, her brow creasing. The box of matches lays open on the hearth beside her.

Behind her, Velvet hums without looking up from her work. One of Eleanor's first demands had been an actual chair to sit on, so they could eat at the tiny table Velvet used to mostly ignore. She had offered to buy one, but, stubborn and reclusive as always, Velvet had refused.

When Eleanor still doesn't go on, Velvet finally turns to glance at her. "What is it?" she asks around the two nails sticking out of her mouth.

"Well, it's just..." Eleanor fiddles with the cold iron poker in her hands. "Why aren't more werewolves like you? I mean, by all accounts they're usually violent and uncontrollable, but you're so..."

"Gentle and submissive?" Velvet can't resist a grin before she turns back to the chair and adjusts the beam across the back.

Eleanor answers seriously, "You don't rampage through town. It's been years, and the people of Taliesin don't even know what you are. You don't threaten them."

Velvet hammers one more nail in, then steps back to examine her work.

"I know it's hard to believe," she says eventually, "but werewolves aren't complete monsters. They're just... slaves to their instincts. If you're hungry, then eat. If you're angry, then lash out. If you feel threatened, then fight."

The room is quiet now that Velvet has stopped moving. She rolls the final nail between her fingers as she continues, "The first transformations are the hardest. You can never keep complete control, but after a while you get the hang of not going batshit. There are tricks."

"Like eating beforehand, and distancing yourself from town?"

"Yeah." Velvet finally sets the hammer down. "There's no point trying to fight it. The best we can do is manage it. For our own sakes, not yours."

"You think there are more like you?"

"I'm sure there are. Maybe not here, but somewhere. There must be others from Aball who fled east."

Eleanor hums thoughtfully, then lapses into silence again. After a minute or so, Velvet sighs and sits down.

"Don't think on it too much. Even if people knew, it wouldn't change their minds."

"Perhaps..." Eleanor turns her head to stare out the window. "I just can't believe I had never thought about it..."

Velvet doesn't comment. Finally, Eleanor stands up and looks over at her.

"Are you done? Oh, wow."

A grin spreads across Velvet's face as Eleanor approaches. "Better than you expected, right?"

"It is, honestly." One of Eleanor's hands runs along the back of the chair. It's simple, inelegant, but all four feet rest soundly on the floor. "With a little finishing and decorating..."

Velvet rolls her eyes. "Why does it need decorating? It's a chair. You sit on it."

"Because we have to look at it every day," Eleanor insists. "It might as well be pretty."

"Tch. Fine." Velvet crosses past her to reach for the matches. "Now what about this dinner you promised? All this movement makes me hungry."

Eleanor lets her hand slide off the chair. "Yes, I'm getting there. I suppose you do deserve a reward for all your hard work."

Once she's lit the fire, Velvet leans back to watch it grow, catching the bigger sticks and finally the log.

"You know, this isn't so bad," she says, and from the kitchen Eleanor agrees.

 

* * *

 

The tavern is relatively quiet in the early afternoon. It's not difficult for Velvet to claim her usual table, despite not visiting lately, and the drinks she orders are served almost immediately.

"It's been a while since I've come here." Eleanor echoes Velvet's own thoughts, looking around as if something might have changed. "I guess I've been spending too much time at your house."

"No kidding," Velvet says, and takes a long drink. It tastes even better than usual after walking around all morning. "You were probably spending more time at my house than at the inn anyway."

Eleanor blushes at that. "W-Well, of course. The inn is just a place to sleep. And you're the one who always let me in."

Velvet grumbles, unable to argue. It's true that she never turned Eleanor away. Perhaps at first she was simply trying to keep her enemies close, but she's long since stopped thinking of Eleanor as nothing more than an exorcist. In fact, sometimes she almost forgets about that.

Uncertainty settles over her as she realizes the routine they've fallen into - had almost fallen into even before the full moon. Shopping together, cooking for each other, now waking up in the same room... Velvet had thought sharing a living space with someone would grate on her nerves, but she still hasn't lost the small trill of warmth she gets whenever Eleanor smiles at her.

"Eleanor, answer me honestly," she says abruptly. Eleanor turns back to her, eyes wide.

"What?"

Velvet has to pause, wetting her suddenly dry mouth. "Does what I am bother you?"

For a few seconds, Eleanor only stares. She averts her eyes when she answers. "It... it does, yes." Before Velvet can determine how that makes her feel, Eleanor goes on, "But it... doesn't change who you are, either." When she looks up at Velvet, somehow Velvet can't look away. "The Velvet I got to know was brusque, and mysterious, and beautiful, and hardworking. And you're still all of those things. Even if I'm a little afraid of you, too... I don't like you any less."

The bar seems to go quiet after she finishes. Velvet is dimly aware of the other patrons continuing to talk in the background, and Eleanor blushing up a storm, but more importantly, her heart is pounding against her ribs for some reason.

She's still searching for a reply when Eleanor asks, uncertainly, "Does it bother you that I'm an exorcist?"

"You can stop being an exorcist," Velvet answers automatically. "Or at least... you don't have to be one around me."

"...Is that a no, then?"

Velvet glances away. "I can live with it. It... doesn't make me like you any less, either."

Her own face is heating up quite a bit, and just as she's thinking about chugging the rest of her drink to cool off, something touches her hand. Her eyes snap up to see Eleanor reaching across the table, one of her hands laid over Velvet's.

"I'm glad," Eleanor says, and smiles, and there's that trill again, a hundred times stronger. "I trust you, Velvet. And I hope you trust me."

"I do," Velvet says. Her voice is so quiet she's not sure if Eleanor even hears, but she knows she understood.

Several minutes pass. It's only when Eleanor finishes her drink, draining the last of the liquid and letting the ice clink against the glass as she sets it down, that she finally withdraws her hand. She clears her throat before asking, "Well, shall we go home?"

The word sticks oddly in Velvet's head. _Home_. She hardly thinks of that house as her own home, much less anyone else's. But hearing it from Eleanor's lips, it sounds... appealing. Strange and unfamiliar, but appealing.

She stands up from the table and waits for Eleanor to join her, ready for the long walk back.

Maybe someday she really can have a home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this au wasn't supposed to be FLUFFY. i don't know what happened


	3. Chapter 3

The exorcist is still in Taliesin at the end of autumn.

Velvet used to love the forests around Aball at this time of year. The bright oranges and reds and golds on the trees, the way the leaves crunch underfoot, the crisp, invigorating winds. She can remember plenty of hunting trips with Arthur in this kind of weather, and baking with Celica, and playing in the piles of leaves with Laphi.

Nowadays, she wonders how she ever could have felt so enlivened when everything was dying.

"It certainly is a beautiful place," Eleanor says softly, gazing at the few leaves left on the trees before them. "It's a shame no one lives here anymore."

Velvet winces at her word choice, but doesn't say anything. It's not Eleanor's fault; she couldn't know.

She turns back to Velvet, who's been lagging a few paces behind. "Do you ever think about moving back?"

"What would be the point?" Velvet kicks a few dead leaves out of her path. "It's not a village anymore."

Eleanor shrugs and looks at the empty village square again. "It could be. People might follow you out here to rebuild... Or even if they didn't, I thought maybe you'd like living here alone."

For a few seconds, Velvet actually considers. "It's a long trip to Taliesin. You can't make it every day."

"You wouldn't have to." Eleanor's eyes take on a far-off look as she gazes around at the abandoned houses. "You can hunt for meat, and start a garden for vegetables. Stock up on clothes and other supplies. Make runs into town only when it's convenient, and not have to worry about anyone discovering your secret..."

Velvet is silent, staring at her. There's something in the way she talks, or maybe the distant smile on her face, that suddenly makes the idea awfully appealing. For a moment, she can imagine it perfectly: hunting beyond the town again, coming home to Eleanor tending the garden, howling on the cliffsides without fear of how many people hear her. Self-sufficient, independent. Just the two of them.

Then she remembers her old house, imagines the dust-covered tables and cabinets full of memories, and a weight presses on her chest. Even out here she can't escape it; that corner is where Laphi fell down and cried and Velvet had to carry him home, and that fence is the one that broke and let the rappigs escape all over the village that day in the summer, and...

She shakes her head. "I was a kid the last time I lived here. Things are different now."

When Eleanor's eyes fix back on her, Velvet can see pity in them. She grits her teeth and reminds herself that it's only because the exorcist cares.

"That's understandable. You probably have a lot of mixed feelings about this place..."

It grates on Velvet's nerves to hear it out loud, but she can't deny it. And yet...

..."I'll consider it, though," she concedes, walking forward into the empty village. A year ago she could never have imagined herself living with an exorcist. Who knows where she'll be a year from now?

 

* * *

 

"Miss Hume!"

The greeting is clearly audible on such a quiet street, away from the bustle of Taliesin's main thoroughfares. Both Velvet and Eleanor turn to see an older woman approaching them with a smile on her face.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she says. "The innkeeper said you'd left."

"Yes, I moved out. I didn't want to impose on their generosity too long," Eleanor explains. "But I'm still living here."

"Well, I'm glad. How's your work going?"

Velvet tenses; Eleanor shoots her a quick glance before responding cheerfully, "It's fine. In fact, I don't think Taliesin really needs an exorcist right now. There don't seem to be any threats nearby."

"Oh, thank you. That's such a relief to hear. But..." The woman's face falls a little. "Does that mean you'll be leaving now?"

This time Eleanor's glance at Velvet comes with a shy smile. "Actually, I thought I'd stay for a while."

"Other business? Or just seeing the sights?"

Velvet interrupts before Eleanor can respond. "A little of both, I'd say."

A sly grin crosses her face; Eleanor stares, then coughs, hiding most of her blushing behind her hand. The woman doesn't seem to notice.

"Good, that's good," she says. "Taliesin thanks you for your work here, you know. Stay as long as you like!"

"Thank you," Eleanor manages to say before the woman ambles off. As soon as she's out of earshot, Eleanor shoots a sharp look at Velvet.

Velvet gazes back evenly. "What? Am I wrong?"

"W-Well, perhaps not, but..." Still flustered, Eleanor suddenly asks, "And what about you? Do you want me to stay as long as I like, too?"

"If you mean in my house, I don't mind. As long as you're not planning to kill me in my sleep."

Velvet's tone is flippant, but Eleanor looks scandalized anyway. "I would never! I already told you, I-"

"Relax," Velvet says, almost laughing. "I was kidding. I wouldn't have invited you if I thought otherwise." Several seconds later, she adds, "Besides, I'd crush you if you tried."

Now Eleanor's expression turns to clear indignation. "That's awfully cocky," she huffs. "You think so little of me?"

The put-off look on her face immediately disappears when Velvet's forefinger brushes her chin. "I think you're too sweet," Velvet says, her smirk growing as Eleanor's face reddens, "to compete with a monster like me."

Eleanor lifts her chin, the steely look in her eyes betrayed only by how her jaw trembles. "I respectfully disagree. With all of the above."

"Oh?" Velvet pulls her hand away and turns to start down the street again. "You're not sweet?"

"Not too sweet to take you down one-on-one," Eleanor insists as she catches up.

This time Velvet really does laugh. Eleanor narrows her eyes, but her expression softens when Velvet moves a little closer, their hands brushing as they continue down the road.

 

* * *

 

The rain comes down in sheets, turning everything outside misty and gray. Eleanor jumps up the moment the door opens.

"Thank goodness!" she says above the pounding of the rain against the roof. "It just kept getting worse, so I was getting worried..."

Velvet shuts the door and looks up through dripping bangs. "I thought it might sprinkle, but not this. I've never seen a storm blow in that fast."

She begins to strip off her coat and armor, and it seems to dawn on Eleanor suddenly that a pond is forming on the floor around them. She hastily steps back and disappears to the bathroom, re-emerging a moment later with several towels.

"Thanks," Velvet mumbles, pausing in removing her weapons to rub one of the towels over her hair. A little drier, she shakes her head vigorously, causing Eleanor to recoil.

"Hey!" she exclaims, then reaches forward to rub one last drop off Velvet's cheek. The moment her fingers brush skin, she flinches back again.

"You're freezing! Hurry up and get those clothes off, I'll get you something dry to wear."

Velvet wrenches one boot off and steps to a cleaner section of floor. "Hold your horses, I'm getting there," she grumbles, but Eleanor is already rifling through Velvet's chest of clothing for something warmer.

She holds up a particularly skimpy shirt, frowning. "You know, for someone who keeps her house so immaculately clean, you aren't very discerning about your appearance. Half your clothes are ripped somewhere."

There's a thump as Velvet's other boot comes off. "They're old," is all she says. "It's not important."

"It is important!" Eleanor finally seems to have found something suitable, and she crosses back to Velvet to thrust it into her arms. "The weather's getting colder. Please tell me you cover up more in the winter."

Velvet doesn't. Instead she sets the new clothes aside and begins to peel her wet shirt off her body.

Eleanor's face goes red, and she quickly looks away. "I'll, uh, wait in the bathroom while you change."

Once she's gone, there's no sound but the steady cascade of rain outside and Velvet's hair occasionally dripping fresh drops onto the floorboards. She wastes no time in wiping herself down and putting on the new attire. That finished, she sets to work hanging her wet clothes on a rack near the fireplace, tosses down the dirty towels to soak up the puddle on the floor, and settles in front of the fire with her armor.

That's where Eleanor finds her when she creeps back in a couple minutes later. "Are you decent?" she asks from the doorway.

"Have been for a while," Velvet says, cleaning the water off one of her greaves and setting it aside to pick up the other. Eleanor huffs.

"You could have invited me back, then."

"I was enjoying the quiet."

Eleanor pauses, but there's no malice in the words. Velvet's eyes stay fixed on the metal buckles she's studiously rubbing dry. When she's satisfied, she hangs her coat back on the rafters and sits down again to work on her armpiece and blade.

She's barely started when a blanket descends heavily from above her, covering all but her hands and feet. Within a moment it sweeps back to rest behind her, and then Eleanor is tucking it around one of Velvet's shoulders and one of her own.

"Are you warmer now?" she asks.

Velvet brushes her hair back out of her eyes. "Much."

"Good." Eleanor smiles, and Velvet shifts a little closer.

Soon enough she has all her gear suitably dried. She pushes it aside and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulder. The fire cracks, and it occurs to her that Eleanor has been awfully quiet while she was working.

She turns her head, prepared to apologize for her earlier comment about Eleanor's fussing - even if it is true - but the words die in her throat when she finds Eleanor watching her, eyes soft in the light of the fire. Velvet's sudden movement has brought them face to face.

At one point Eleanor almost certainly would have wrenched away, flustered and flushing. Right now, Velvet isn't sure if she's blushing or if it's just the firelight reflecting against her cheek. She doesn't have a lot of time to decide before Eleanor moves - forward, not back, and their lips are pressed together.

The moment seems incredibly long, and still not long enough. When Eleanor pulls back, Velvet somehow feels colder, as if Eleanor is the source of all the warmth surrounding her. She leans back in.

Outside, the rain continues to fall, unheard.

 

* * *

 

The butcher's shop is empty when Eleanor arrives. Late morning light slants in through the front window, and a bell rings as Eleanor opens the door.

Behind the counter is a tall, lean man who greets Eleanor before looking up from whatever's he writing. When he does lift his eyes, he tilts his head a little.

"You're the exorcist, right? I think we met once before."

He peers at Eleanor through his glasses, and she nods.

"I thought you were living with that hunter now? Velvet?"

Eleanor's eyes widen. "How did you know that?"

"Oh, my assistant has seen you two in town together a few times. We just assumed. Though if you're coming here..."

"No, you're right," Eleanor assures him. "I just wanted this meal to be a surprise, so I couldn't ask her for the meat."

"Ah." The butcher nods, and doesn't resume the conversation until he's done taking her order. After he calls out to his assistant in the back, he leans on the counter and says, "So how is Velvet? I actually haven't seen her lately."

Caught off guard, Eleanor answers, "She's fine. I think it's just the colder weather making her hunts more difficult..."

"Perhaps," the man agrees. Behind him, the assistant comes out of the back, carrying a large chunk of something in her arms, and sets it on the far counter. "It does get colder every year. It just feels like she hasn't been in as much this autumn."

"Must have other stuff to do," the assistant says, deftly chopping the meat into more manageable pieces. She's a stockier girl with darker skin; Eleanor thinks she may have seen her around town too, once or twice.

The butcher shrugs. "Well, I'm glad for her then. She has seemed to be in a better mood lately."

The assistant looks over her shoulder and grins at Eleanor. "Yeah, she almost smiled at us once."

"Do you think so?" Eleanor asks, sincerely curious. Honestly, she has felt that Velvet has been more hospitable the last few weeks, but she was willing to chalk that up to them just getting used to each other. Eleanor actually has no idea how Velvet gets along with the townspeople, apart from the fact that she tries not to.

"Oh, yeah," the butcher says, leaning back. "She's usually so sullen. But she never struck me as a bad person. It's nice to see her doing better."

Bringing the chopped meat to the front counter, the assistant agrees, and her eyes sparkle as she looks at Eleanor. "I wonder what changed?"

Eleanor blushes under the force of her gaze. After a few seconds, the other girl turns back around to clean up, and Eleanor lets out the breath she was holding.

Seemingly unaware of the exchange, the butcher wraps up the order and places it in front of Eleanor. She thanks them and pays before they can ask any more questions.

Outside, the street is still relatively empty, and Eleanor pauses by the door. She remembers talking to Velvet here months ago - their first conversation, actually. Certainly Velvet isn't quite so standoffish anymore, or at least not around Eleanor. But has she really changed? Is she actually that much... happier?

Clutching the package to her chest, Eleanor smiles. Perhaps she has a purpose in Taliesin after all.

 

* * *

 

Eleanor can't help but stare when Velvet returns from her bath; she's wearing nothing but shorts and a sleeveless shirt, despite the cold, and her damp hair hangs almost to her knees. A thin towel draped over her shoulders separates it from her dry clothing.

But what really captures Eleanor's attention is the way she runs her comb quickly through her bangs and the edges of her hair and then sets it back down on the dresser.

"...Aren't you going to comb that?" Eleanor asks as Velvet settles cross-legged on the bed. Her hands are already occupied with a small pouch instead.

"It just gets tangled up again anyway," Velvet says without looking up, and dumps a handful of prickleboar tusks out in front of her.

Eleanor crosses her arms. "It wouldn't get nearly as tangled if you combed it properly. You have beautiful hair, Velvet; you should take care of it."

Velvet scoffs. "Easy for you to say."

"It can't be _that_  difficult."

"You wanna try?"

Barely moving her head, Velvet fixes her eyes on Eleanor. Eleanor would have agreed to help anyway, probaby - but the note of challenge in Velvet's voice makes it impossible for her not to.

Retrieving the comb from the dresser, she settles behind Velvet on the bed and gathers up all the long, black strands. As Velvet said, it is rather messy, and the sheer length of it makes it difficult to keep it in place. But it's still damp, and most of the tangles come out rather quickly.

They sit in silence while they work. Only Velvet's arms move, sorting and occasionally polishing the tusks - probably someone in town will buy them if they're in good shape, Eleanor guesses. For her part, she manages to retain her focus quite admirably until she reaches Velvet's neck. The teeth of the comb start to catch in the fabric of the towel covering Velvet's shoulders, and before Eleanor can even ask, Velvet shrugs it away. It's then that Eleanor notices both of Velvet's arms are bare.

"Velvet, do you mind if I... look at your arm?"

Velvet raises her eyebrows, but doesn't hesitate to turn and tilt her elbow up. For the first time, her whole left arm is in plain view to Eleanor, scars and all.

She touches it gingerly, as if afraid it might still hurt. Velvet doesn't react, so Eleanor continues to trace her fingers along the raised lines. Her lower arm is marred by several slashmarks, curving down to her wrist, occasionally overlapping and leaving darker crosses where they meet. Her upper arm, though, is nothing so neat; short, evenly-spaced scars mark where teeth punctured her skin and tried to rip, apparently several times.

"...How did this happen?" Eleanor asks, and then quickly clarifies, "I mean, just your arm like this..."

Velvet seems to have to think for a moment. "I tried to hide. It was stupid; werewolves can smell better than they can see. But I guess my arm stuck out the most and one tried to pull me out by it."

Eleanor winces at the thought. Velvet is lucky she didn't lose her entire arm. Or maybe not; maybe if she did, she wouldn't have been infected...

But that's a pointless line of thought, so she continues to run her fingertips lightly along the scars. Velvet's skin is paler and soft here, not weathered like the rest of her body, and Eleanor can feel firm muscle underneath. Honestly, her arm is beautiful in its own way - living proof of Velvet's strength.

"Is my hair done?" Velvet says, startling Eleanor out of her reverie.

"Oh, uh, yes. I think it's fine now."

Letting go of Velvet's arm, Eleanor makes to stand up, but Velvet stops her, suddenly smirking.

"I showed you mine," she says. "Aren't you going to show me yours?"

Eleanor stares. "W-Well... If you really want me to."

As she slowly begins to unfasten her top, Velvet's eyes widen, as if she didn't expect Eleanor to actually go through with it. But when the top half of the shirt is pulled open, she takes in the sight as calmly as ever.

"...Can I touch it?"

Eleanor gulps but nods, and Velvet's rough fingers caress the skin beneath her collarbone. They never wander lower, even though the bottom of the scar dips down to her breasts, but the touch still makes her shiver. She wonders if Velvet felt at all the same way about letting Eleanor touch her arm; surely the sense of intimacy she feels isn't entirely from the location.

Velvet's face is unreadable, but her eyes take on a far-off look as her fingertips trace the jagged lines. "The werewolves did this?"

"Yes. I was lucky. They..." She takes a deep breath and continues, "My mother led them away before they finished me off."

"That was very brave of her," Velvet mutters, running her thumb along the top of the scar once more before she pulls her hand away. "And you were so young..."

Her gaze remains distant; Eleanor's eyes stay fixed on her face. Suddenly she yearns to change the subject, and laces her shirt back up. It's not that Velvet's scrutiny or sympathy has made her uncomfortable, but...

"Y-Yes, well, it was a long time ago. For both of us, I guess. What really matters is how we choose to move on from it."

Velvet snorts, and the spell is broken. Relaxing again, Eleanor moves to the edge of the bed and stretches as she stands up.

"Cheesy, but I guess you're right," Velvet says matter-of-factly, and goes right back to examining her tusks.

 

* * *

 

As soon as her house comes in sight, Velvet pauses in the road, staring at the yard. Clothes have been hung all over the simple drying rack she made years ago, and are now flapping in the breeze like a variety of flags.

Approaching the house slowly, Velvet finds Eleanor sitting in the grass with her back against the log Velvet uses as a bench. There's fabric all over her lap, and she seems to be peering quite carefully at whatever her hands are doing with it.

"What's all this?" Velvet asks. Her eyes flit over the clothes again. Some of these she hasn't worn in months; ripped and ragged, they've been buried at the bottom of her chest of clothing, doomed to eventually end up as scrap material. Except that Eleanor has apparently dug them all out and... washed them?

Eleanor pulls her needle through the shorts in front of her. "I thought I'd take advantage of the nice weather to wash some things. Then when the next rainstorm comes I'll have plenty to do."

"Wait, did you drag these out to fix them?" Sure enough, Eleanor's new sewing supplies are strewn all around her, and half the rip in Velvet's old shorts has disappeared.

"They'd be perfectly decent if they didn't have so many holes in them," Eleanor explains. "Honestly, I don't know how they get so torn up, even on _you_."

Velvet doesn't bother to reply to that. "You know you don't have to do that," she says. She's already told Eleanor that she doesn't mind the rips or fraying edges; destroyed clothes just comes with the job. Though it's true that it is getting colder, and she hates the snow getting in her shirt...

Eleanor just says, "I want to," and pokes the needle through again.

"Well, just remember, I didn't ask for any favors." Velvet heads around the drying rack to the door. "Oh, and call me if it starts to rain. I'll help bring everything in."

"I know," Eleanor says, smiling as the door shuts.

 

* * *

 

Velvet wakes to mid-morning light and soft humming. Her sleep has been deep and dreamless, and it doesn't take long for her to remember coming in at dawn and immediately falling into bed.

Something has changed since then. Fingers are running through her hair, gently combing out the knots and debris that built up during the night. There's fabric under her cheek, soft and warm - her head is cushioned on Eleanor's legs.

Eleanor's other hand rests a few inches away on top of the sheets. For a few moments Velvet stares at it, gaze blurring. Beyond the bed the room is lit up by strong sunlight, even though the curtains are closed, and above her Eleanor continues to hum. The song is simple and slow, perhaps a lullaby. Velvet already feels her mind drifting off again.

She reaches out her hand to place it over Eleanor's, and falls asleep content.


	4. Chapter 4

As long as Velvet can remember, the cold weather has hit earlier almost every year, and this one is no exception. Soon all the leaves have been shaken off the trees by chilly winds, and frost is forming on the ground every morning.

On particularly cold days, it doesn't burn off until well after dawn, making some of the shaded staircases in the city dangerously slippery. Eleanor eyes one distrustfully as Velvet starts down.

Several steps away, the hunter stops and turns around. "Are you coming?"

Eleanor remains at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over her chest. "How can you walk around so carelessly when there's ice on the ground?"

"Ice?" Velvet glances down, looking genuinely confused. "It's just a little frost."

"Frost is ice!"

When Velvet looks up again, the corners of her mouth are twitching upwards. "It hasn't even snowed yet. And you look like you're freezing. You're really not from around here, huh?"

"Of course not." Eleanor glares at the blank side of the building next to her, hugging her arms tighter around her body. "It doesn't snow at all where I'm from."

Velvet's grin widens. "You'll love our winters then."

"I've heard they're rather mild," Eleanor replies dismissively as Velvet walks back up the stairs to join her. "Compared to Midgand or Northgand."

"They get worse every year. Are we going downtown or not?"

Eleanor doesn't answer. "But it's so cold already," she mutters, finally taking a step closer to the stairs.

Suddenly she's wrenched aside. For a brief moment she thinks her feet slipped on the ice, but when her body collides with Velvet's and a strong pair of arms wrap around her, she realizes she was pulled in very deliberately.

"Well then," Velvet says, her smirk evident in her voice. "I guess I'll have to keep you warm."

Eleanor buries her face in the open collar of Velvet's coat to hide her blushing. "All winter? That's a big job."

"I'm up to it."

Skeptical as Eleanor usually is, she has to admit Velvet might be right on this one, because she's feeling warmer already.

 

* * *

 

A spatter of cold raindrops blow into the house beside Eleanor, and she shivers as she shuts the door.

"Goodness," she says, "today is sure..."

The words die on her tongue when she turns around. Velvet stands across the room in an apron and head scarf, holding a broom, staring back at her.

"Where were you?" her host demands.

Eleanor blinks, and starts to remove her coat. "I went into town to see some shopkeepers. Why are you cleaning? I thought you just swept the other day."

Velvet turns away. "It was just bugging me." Her eyes are narrowed, but the more Eleanor stares, the more she starts to see concern rather than aggravation in Velvet's expression. She smiles.

"I can do that for you, if you like. You must be tired from hunting."

Velvet grips the broom and starts sweeping again. "No, I had to come home early. There's nothing out in rain this cold. And I need this done in a particular way."

A laugh bubbles up in Eleanor's throat, but she tamps it down. Velvet probably wouldn't appreciate that right now, even more so than usual. "Okay," she says instead.

Velvet doesn't keep working for long anyway. Before Eleanor can finish removing her boots, her host looks up again and says, "Didn't you say you were shopping? You're not carrying anything."

"Ah, no, not shopping, exactly..." Eleanor falters, but then presses on. "I was actually inquiring about work. It's high time I paid you back for letting me live and eat here, and..."

Again, Velvet's brow creases. "You don't have to pay me."

But Eleanor shakes her head. "It's only fair. Especially if hunting is getting harder. I want to help out."

"I mean..." Velvet's teeth grit, and Eleanor tilts her head. She seems to be struggling to find the words she wants.

They eventually come with a faint blush. "You shouldn't think you're some kind of burden. I'm the one who invited you here. I..." She swallows, and continues more quietly, "Sometimes it's nice to have someone to come home to."

Eleanor stares. It's not that the sentiment is that surprising; she intuited right from the beginning that deep down Velvet didn't like being alone day after day. But to hear her say it...

"What?" Velvet asks warily, snapping Eleanor out of her reverie. The hunter is still standing in front of her, clutching her broom almost self-consciously between them as she awaits a reply.

Eleanor smiles and crosses the room to Velvet's side under her apprehensive gaze. Gently taking the broom from her hands, she sets it aside and winds her arms around Velvet's neck. Immediately Velvet straightens, her old confidence coming back into her face.

"That's exactly why I need to earn my keep," Eleanor says. "So I can make sure I can stay here with you."

Finally Velvet seems to relent. Her arms wrap around Eleanor's waist, pulling her closer.

"So what does an exorcist do when there's nothing to exorcise?" she asks.

"Mmm, well, I'm sure I have other talents. Sewing, gardening, maybe some heavy lifting..."

"You're good with your hands?" Velvet suggests with a smirk, and Eleanor flushes.

"I am, thank you. You said yourself that the work I did on your clothes was almost store-bought quality. I thought maybe I could do repairs for other people as well."

Velvet leans forward to nuzzle Eleanor's hair. "Well, anyone would be lucky to have you."

 

* * *

 

The crack of wood splitting reverberates against the trees as Eleanor brings the axe down. It's a clear day, but Eleanor's breath still clouds in front of her lips each time she exhales, and she can feel the remains of a layer of frost on some of the logs as she picks them up.

Luckily, Velvet already had a good stock of wood piled up beside the house before the weather turned cold. All that's left to do is cut it into pieces small enough for the fireplace, which Eleanor insisted on doing herself rather than letting Velvet trouble herself with it. Besides, it's good exercise, and a nice reminder to both of them that Velvet isn't the only one around here experienced with hard work and sharp tools. Eleanor heaves the axe up again.

She's privately considering taking a break soon to warm her toes when the sound of the door shutting makes her look up.

"Is that really all you're wearing?" she asks as Velvet steps into the yard.

The article of clothing Velvet is tugging on _is_ a coat, but that's about all Eleanor can say for it. It's not covering nearly as much of her as it should - and the leather armor she wears is thin enough to begin with.

"I can't get too bulky," Velvet says. "It'll slow me down. Besides, moving will warm me up."

Eleanor still looks doubtful. She holds her hands to her mouth and puffs some warm air on them. "That's what I was hoping when I came out here, too, but it's not working very well. Perhaps I'm the one who needs a better coat. I was considering going into town to buy another blanket anyway..."

"Is your bed too cold?" Velvet sounds almost surprised.

"Well, sometimes when I wake up in the night it's rather chilly. It's not a big deal, I'm sure another layer will fix it for now."

Velvet doesn't respond. Eventually Eleanor looks up again to find her host watching her; as soon as their eyes meet, Velvet's flick away.

"Actually, I was thinking you... uh... could just share my bed, if you want. I think it's big enough, and it'll be warmer for both of us..."

If Eleanor isn't mistaken, Velvet's face is starting to flush. One of her hands fidgets with the straps on her armpiece.

Finally she returns her gaze to Eleanor, and Eleanor smiles. "I would love to. As long as you're sure."

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't."

That's true, Eleanor thinks, suddenly feeling warmed from the inside. Velvet certainly wouldn't invite someone into her bed just to be polite. Or her house, or even her life as a whole. Eleanor wonders briefly if anyone else has seen this side of Velvet - the gentler, caring part of her, the girl who beams when she finishes the laundry, whose eyes soften when she talks about her family.

"We can work the rest out when I get back," Velvet says, and wastes no time in turning away and heading off into the woods.

"Good luck!" Eleanor calls after her. Velvet raises her hand in farewell and steadfastly does not turn around.

Eleanor grins again. Honestly, Velvet's very cute when she's embarrassed. For all her smirking and smooth remarks and general aloofness, she's been strangely shy about the decidedly romantic aspects of their relationship. Certainly _that's_ not a side of her many other people have seen, Eleanor imagines.

She shakes her head and sets up another log, wondering just how many times Velvet Crowe is going to surprise her.

 

* * *

 

The blankets surround them like a cocoon in the dead of the night. When Velvet wakes it's to the simultaneous impression that she's too hot and too cold; her shoulders feel the chill of the night air even while the rest of her body is nearly sweltering in the heat of the bed.

Part of that might be because Eleanor is pressed up against her. Eyes closed, hair falling over her cheek, she's still fast asleep and breathing peacefully.

Velvet raises one arm to comb her own hair out of her face and back over her shoulder. Unfortunately, the motion shifts the blankets, and a moment later Eleanor's head tilts up and her eyes open slowly.

For several seconds they simply stare at one another, both frozen in place. Then Eleanor's gaze drifts down and she quickly shifts away.

"S-Sorry," she says. Velvet guesses the heat in her cheeks has nothing to do with the warmth of the bed.

She reaches her arms out to pull Eleanor back beside her, and mumbles against her hair, "Don't be."

Almost immediately Eleanor relaxes in her arms, nudging her head against Velvet's shoulder. "Okay," she breathes, and complies by unhesitatingly wrapping an arm around Velvet's waist.

It's still awfully hot, for a late autumn night, but Velvet is beginning to like it.

 

* * *

 

The knock at the door is loud and entirely unexpected in the silence of late afternoon. Eleanor has just put away her latest sewing project, intending to help Velvet in the kitchen, when the unfamiliar sound reverberates through the room.

Still sitting on the bed, she watches Velvet peek out the window before cautiously opening the door. Whatever the young man outside says is unintelligible to her; Velvet barely exchanges a handful of words with him before growling at him to go away and slamming the door.

Eleanor's eyes narrow. Well, that might explain why they have so few visitors. Eleanor had thought it was because they live almost in the forest, as well as Velvet's lack of any desire to make friends, but Velvet has gone back to the kitchen counter as if nothing even happened - as if this is a regular occurrence. 

It would be easy enough to get up and ask what she can do to help with dinner, but a strange discomfort takes ahold and suddenly the idea is unappealing.

"What did he want?" she asks casually.

Velvet continues to peel her vegetables, movements with her knife just a little too jagged. "Who knows?"

Now Eleanor's brow furrows. "You didn't even let him tell you?"

"It was something about an event in town," Velvet grumbles. "Not my scene. Better not to waste either of our time."

Slowly Eleanor stands up, muscles tensing. "How do you know?" Despite her best effort to stay calm, her frustration creeps clearly into her voice and the slant of her eyebrows. "You could have at least heard him out. I know you don't like to socialize, but you don't have to be _rude_."

The look Velvet shoots her makes it clear she's crossed a line, but Eleanor doesn't flinch. After a moment, Velvet responds, "I'm not going to _any_ event in town, and I don't want to be bothered about them. That's just how my kind is."

"That's ridiculous. You live here, and have a job, and go to the market and the tavern. You could join in with whatever they're doing."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Why? I think it would be nice to be part of the community."

Velvet's hand tightens around the knife. "That's because you don't have to be afraid of them! Most people aren't _like_ you. If they find out what I am they'll fucking crucify me."

For a moment Eleanor pauses, stayed both by Velvet's logic and the way she's bristling. As prone as she is to getting annoyed, she doesn't often get so agitated. Most of the times Eleanor has seen her this worked up, her anger was directed at someone else, and it simmered down naturally when Eleanor didn't stir it up.

She knows, in that moment, that she's sticking her hand right in the hornet's nest, but she's too tired of staying quiet to care.

"You don't know that! Why can't you give people a chance, Velvet? Besides, it's not like they'll find out you're a werewolf just from small talk."

"Small talk leads to bigger talk, and bigger talk leads to more time spent together, and before you know it they might be sleeping in your house," Velvet growls, half turning back to the counter.

Eleanor stares. The vehemence in Velvet's voice, borderline resentment, settles like a stone in her stomach.

Fighting off the sinking feeling, she asks, "And is that a problem?"

Velvet picks up a carrot, examining it idly, and says, "It is if they keep trying to make you into something you're not."

 _I'm not-_ Eleanor thinks, and bites down on her lip. Velvet was the one who insisted that werewolves are just like anyone else. Is it so wrong for Eleanor to want to think of her as a person first, and a werewolf second? She's not trying to _ignore_ it, really, but...

She takes a breath. "All I'm saying is that you're not so different from them. You can blend in. If you don't act out of place, they won't notice."

"At first," Velvet grumbles, and returns to her work.

Eleanor frowns, feeling her own annoyance start to boil over. "Why do you have to be so pessimistic about everything? You can't just hide away here forever, you know."

Suddenly Velvet's knife slices through the carrot and into the cutting board with an alarming crack.

"It's worked for me so far. If you don't like it, you're welcome to leave," Velvet snaps, and Eleanor freezes.

She's entirely right. Eleanor still has the funds to go back to the inn, if she needs to. And she can hop aboard any ship sailing out of port whenever she wants to be done with Taliesin. Somehow she hadn't considered it until now.

It dawns on her, not for the first time, how tenuous her position here is. She helps pay for groceries and does housework while Velvet is busy, but the fact is, this is Velvet's house. This is Velvet's life. Eleanor is just a visitor - a long-term visitor - because if she's not...

"Do you want me to leave?" she finds herself asking. Her voice is noticeably strained, and she coughs, pretending it was just an itch in her throat.

Velvet also pauses, but only long enough to gather the air to say, "I don't care. Do whatever you want."

Another flash of frustration makes Eleanor's fist tighten at her side and tears well up in her eyes. Why can't Velvet ever just tell her how she feels? Would it be so difficult for them to just _talk?_

Maybe that's too much to ask from Velvet. She obviously prefers to keep things as simple as possible, and rationally sorting out her feelings isn't part of that equation. _Like an animal,_ Eleanor thinks - and then immediately feels sick for letting that word cross her mind.

She's not sure if she's more disgusted at Velvet or herself as she pulls the door open and steps outside, desperate to be anywhere else right now.

At the edge of the yard, she stops and looks back at the house. Would it be too much to hope that Velvet will think twice and come after her?

But her heart sinks the longer she waits. Of course. Of course Velvet's not going to chase her. Velvet doesn't _care_.

The door remains shut, and Eleanor walks away alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to end this here, but the chapter got so long I had to split it up. OH WELL
> 
> also thank you for the comments and kudos and bookmarks!! as usual I will likely not get around to individual replies but please know that I appreciate every comment a lot (*^ω^*人)


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow the tavern seems noisier the emptier it gets. There aren't a lot of patrons left at this hour, but most of those still around are boisterious and more than likely drunk.

Eleanor herself feels a little queasy, and she doesn't think it's entirely from the slightly-alcoholic drink she's been indulging in. At first she was simply irritated, but somehow the bitter winds of the port distracted her into something more like loneliness. The water was gray and choppy, and Eleanor was tired of all the stairs, and suddenly the tavern near the docks seemed awfully inviting. It isn't as if she has a home to return to, after all.

_That's_ what's making her stomach churn. She knows she'll have to go back to Velvet's house eventually, to collect her belongings if nothing else, but all throughout the evening she's been unable to make herself turn back. She keeps imagining Velvet waiting in stony silence as she gathers her things, or throwing it out in the yard for her to pick up.

She shakes her head. That's ridiculous. Velvet snaps and grumbles all the time - she's not going to throw Eleanor out over one fight. But that means they'll need to talk, and Eleanor isn't exactly excited for that, either.

In fact, she's been putting it off for quite some time. Raucous laughter across the room reminds her of how late it must be; if the last light hasn't disappeared by now, it will soon, and Eleanor's chance to return to Velvet's house tonight will follow closely after.

She scrapes her nails lightly along the wooden surface of the table and remembers all the time she's spent here with Velvet. This is basically where they met. Velvet seemed to come here quite often, before Eleanor made a habit of taking up her time. Perhaps she was lonelier than she cared to recognize.

All at once she imagines a much more likely picture of Velvet's house right now: Velvet, alone, huddled in front of the fire, or curled up in bed early, or cleaning all the windows with a little more force than necessary. Eleanor smiles at the thought, even as her chest aches. It's so cute how Velvet turns to housework when she's stressed. Maybe the routine calms her down? It always makes Eleanor want to hug her and help her relax, but Velvet would just push her away and insist on doing the rest of the chores herself.

She certainly is capable of doing it all on her own. She probably had been for years, before Eleanor came along. Maybe Eleanor really doesn't belong here.

But then she remembers her first conversations here with Velvet again, the way she snapped at strangers and kept her distance even from the other townsfolk who already knew her. She can't possibly have been happy living like that. In self-imposed isolation, trying to do everything herself, trying to pretend she doesn't miss being part of a family. She needs somebody she can trust - well, no, not needs. Wants, maybe.

Eleanor stands, her chair scraping against the floor as it's pushed backwards. No one seems to notice amid the general hubbub at the bar, and no one comments as she strides back out the door.

Her mind is made up. She's going to be that somebody.

 

* * *

 

An owl hoots somewhere outside Velvet's house, and all else is quiet. It's not at all like those early autumn evenings when frogs croaked and crickets chirped long after the sun went down. The lack of sound makes Eleanor uneasy, desperate to get away.

Still, she hesitates outside the door for several minutes. The curtains are drawn, but they're not thick enough to disguise the little bit of light shining through. Velvet is awake - and that means a conversation. A conversation Eleanor isn't sure either of them can handle so soon.

But there's no sense going back into town now. Drawing in a deep breath, she reaches forward and opens the door.

_Please don't still be mad, please don't still be mad..._

The light is coming from a lantern by the bed. Velvet sits against the headboard with a book in her hands and only her feet under the covers, even though the room is colder than Eleanor is used to.

Velvet glances up at her, but says nothing. Slowly, Eleanor shuts the door and lingers in the entranceway.

"Can I come in...?"

Velvet's brow furrows at the question. "Of course."

Eleanor still lingers by the door, waiting for some sort of cue. But it's clear that Velvet isn't going to make the first move, so she takes a deep breath and presses on.

"Look, I... I'm sorry about what I said. You're right that I don't understand what it's like to live the way you do. I just want you to be happy, and I think that might entail... making some changes sometimes."

For a moment Velvet looks like she's about to argue, and Eleanor quickly adds, "Wh-What I mean is, I know we're both still adjusting. I'm sorry if I'm still a nuisance sometimes, or if I'm... pushing you too far or too fast. But I really want this to work. I want to stay with you."

The room is silent for several moments. Velvet eventually looks aside.

"No, you were right, too. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around. I never really expected I'd live with anyone else again, so maybe I've... forgotten how."

Suddenly Eleanor's chest feels lighter. "That's understandable. I know you haven't had it easy. I'll try to respect that."

Velvet sighs. "And you're only pushing for what you think is best for both of us. I'll... try to respect that." She snaps her book shut in her lap. "Just don't expect a miracle. I'll never be a social butterfly."

"I know." Eleanor's smile is bright and entirely genuine. "I'm happy just to know you're still... okay with me being here."

"Of course I am," Velvet says, and then her hand tightens around the book. The sudden tension in her jaw doesn't escape Eleanor's notice, either - she's seen that look before, when Velvet is kicking herself for doing something stupid, but Eleanor glows at the sincerity of her answer, even if it only slipped out.

Velvet quickly goes on, "Anyway, it's late. Get in bed so I can put this light out."

Eleanor doesn't hesitate to comply. There's an awkwardness in pulling the covers over both of them, almost on par with the first time they shared the bed, but the warmth of the blankets immediately makes her glad to be home.

She keeps a polite distance from Velvet, who's staring at the front of the book in her hands. It's blank but for a design on the cover, a meaningless but intricate pattern. Eleanor scrutinizes it for a minute before asking, just short of casually, "What were you reading? I don't think I've seen that before."

Velvet holds on to the book a few more moments before setting it aside.

"...It's Laphicet's diary. Since he couldn't go out much, he kept a journal of how he spent his days."

"Oh..." Suddenly Eleanor feels a new distance between them, greater than the empty space under the sheets. As much as she wants to be part of Velvet's life, she suspects a section of Velvet's heart is always going to remain hollow, aching for the family she's lost. Eleanor will never be able to take the place of what's been carved out of Velvet, just as no one can ever replace Eleanor's mother. For a brief moment she wonders if this can be enough for either of them.

Velvet doesn't seem bothered, though. "I'll show it to you sometime," she says as she reaches for the lantern. "The kid was always reading these complicated books, so I don't understand all the things he went on about. Maybe it'll make more sense to you."

"I'd love to see it," Eleanor says, smiling gently before the light goes out. "Whenever you're ready to show it to me."

 

* * *

 

(This time, when Velvet wakes in the night, she is conscious only of being cold. The top blanket on the bed has slipped aside and is no longer covering her, leaving her wrapped in only thin sheets.

She turns over and makes out a shape on the other side of the bed. Eleanor is asleep with her back to Velvet, several inches away, so that a void of lukewarm air rests between them.

Velvet pulls the blanket back up and shifts a little closer.)

 

* * *

 

There's just enough snow on the ground to make a nice crunching sound under Eleanor's feet. She steps carefully, enjoying the soft but crisp sensation, while beside her, Velvet's boots glide over the path almost soundlessly. Their progress down the trail breaks the silence of the snow-covered woods, but seems not to disturb the landscape, which remains sparkling and still.

"It really is beautiful here," Eleanor says, gazing at the thin layer of snow dusting the bushes around them. "Even if it is colder than I would have liked."

A hint of a smile crosses Velvet's face. "This is only the first snow of the year, you know. Think you'll survive the rest?"

"I'm not planning to run away just yet." Eleanor tilts her chin a little higher. "Besides, I saw more snow than this in Midgand when I was training there."

"Oh, then I guess you're all prepared. Nothing fazes the mighty exorcists, right?"

Eleanor chooses to ignore the teasing sarcasm seeping through her voice; something more important has occurred to her. "Are _you_ prepared? The full moon is just a few days away. Isn't it more difficult, with the snow...?"

"It's not that bad," Velvet says, and reaches out to pull Eleanor away from a dip in the ground she almost didn't notice under the blanket of snow. Eleanor skirts the danger, and Velvet's hand drifts away again.

"But it's so cold, and you'll leave more tracks..."

Velvet sniffs and runs one gloved hand under her nose. "Don't worry about the cold. I've got an excellent fur coat. And the snow just means I need to keep far away from town. Remember, there's fewer people out in this weather too."

"I suppose so..."

Really, there's probably no reason for Eleanor to worry. Velvet must have lived through several winters already, and the townspeople still aren't on to her. But the thought of her out here all night, freezing under the cold light of a full moon, easy to spot against the snow-lit landscape...

"Anyway," Velvet says, leading them down the valley into a thicker patch of trees. "I don't think we need to worry about that for a while. See how everything's already dripping?"

Eleanor looks up just in time for a drop of snowmelt to land in her face. Everything sure is dripping here, and she has to shade her eyes to follow Velvet through the foliage.

"I bet it's going to get warmer again before winter really sets in," Velvet continues. "All this will melt in a day or two. See, look at this."

She pulls some low-hanging branches aside, clearing a path for Eleanor to walk through. Eleanor is so focused on avoiding the shower of snow falling from the trees that when she finally clears the woodline and looks up, she almost gasps. They've reached the lake, which is currently as still as glass, reflecting the far shore's snow-coated trees and the pale blue sky above.

"Wow," Eleanor breathes. "It's even more picturesque in the winter."

"And it's not even a little frozen," Velvet points out. "It was barely above freezing last night, and the temperature's already going back up."

She's right; the water ripples gently in front of them, unmarred by any chunks of ice, though Eleanor is certain it wouldn't feel that way if she dipped her hand in.

"Well, you're the expert," she concedes, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up after that thought.

They take another few minutes to admire the scenery before Velvet eyes Eleanor's restless gloves. "Want to go back?"

Eleanor takes one more look at the snow dusting the rocks along the shore. "Yes, I suppose we should. It gets dark so early now..."

Without further ado, Velvet leads the way back through the woods until they reach the wide road to Taliesin. The snow here isn't quite as pristine-looking as the untouched swaths of it farther from town, but it's still marred by only a scant few set of footprints, and there's no other people in sight.

They walk in silence, but for the soft crunching of the snow under their feet. Eleanor hugs her arms around her body for a minute, then lets them drop again, and glances at Velvet. She's still not wearing as much clothing as Eleanor would deem appropriate for the season, yet the cold air on her skin never seems to bother her.

Eleanor reaches over to wrap her fingers around Velvet's hand. Velvet looks up, eyes widening. Despite the gloves both of them are wearing, the heat of her body seeps through to Eleanor's skin, just a little.

"You promised to keep me warm, remember?" Eleanor says. "All winter."

There's a brief moment where Velvet glances away into the trees, and something twists in Eleanor's chest. She can't be too surprised if Velvet has rethought that decision... But then Velvet's fingers tighten around Eleanor's and she tugs the exorcist closer.

"And you trust me to keep that promise?" she asks, just lightly enough for Eleanor to be sure she's not entirely serious. "It's not smart to trust demons, you know. I'm a real antisocial scoundrel."

Her voice isn't bitter, this time, but the way she keeps her eyes locked on their hands tells Eleanor what she's really asking.

"I do trust you, and I do still want it, so I'm going to hold you to it," she says, and smiles. "And you're a very sweet demon, deep down."

As soon as Velvet frowns, Eleanor shuts up whatever fresh objection is about to come out of her mouth with a quick kiss.

"No arguing. You can't convince me otherwise."

Velvet grumbles, but her hand remains firmly in Eleanor's the rest of the way home.

 

* * *

 

A clatter wakes Eleanor, and she quickly turns over to look at the door. Through blurry eyes she sees Velvet leaning against the frame, lit by the faint gray light of dawn coming in the entrance. A steady noise accompanies the image; Eleanor belatedly realizes it's raining.

And it probably has been for some time, judging by the puddle forming under Velvet's knotted hair. When she shrugs her coat off, it falls to the ground in a wet heap, which she nearly trips over as she tries to remove her shoes.

Hastily Eleanor pushes back the sheets and climbs out of bed to join her. The wooden floor is cold against her bare feet, and a brisk wind makes her shiver in her nightgown. The first thing she does is close and lock the door, and then turns to steady Velvet when she sways.

"You need to get in bed," Eleanor instructs. "You must be freezing."

Velvet's hands fumble with her belt until Eleanor reaches down to help undo it. "'M soaked," she mumbles. "Snowed and rained all night. Fur's still wet..."

Eleanor can't resist grinning, and quickly turns away. "I'll get you a towel. You get those wet clothes off."

By the time she returns from the bathroom, Velvet has stripped down to almost nothing, leaving her torn and wet garments on the floor. She barely gets her body dry and a new shirt on before sitting on the bed, and as soon as she does, she leans over and is asleep the moment her head hits the pillow.

For a minute Eleanor stares at her, still holding the damp towel. Her body is covered in nicks and scratches - some fresh, some old scars. It's impossible to tell which came from hunting accidents and which she earned doing something reckless under a full moon. At least none of them are bleeding tonight; or perhaps the rain just already washed the wounds clean.

Velvet was right, though - her "fur" is still plenty damp. Even when Eleanor sets to work vigorously rubbing her hair with the towel, she doesn't wake up. Eleanor takes the opportunity to comb through some of the worse tangles as it fluffs back up.

The light coming in the window grows, and Eleanor yawns behind her hand. Velvet probably wouldn't approve of the comparison, but sometimes Eleanor wonders if she gets any more sleep than Velvet does on full moons. It's difficult not to stay up half the night waiting for her to come home.

Making sure Velvet is fully covered by the sheets, Eleanor slides into the bed behind her and lies back down. Velvet is still a little damp, but the scents of the rain-soaked forest cling to her, and Eleanor breathes it in deeply. The fresh but earthy smell always reminds her of Velvet now - and more specifically, of Velvet coming home safe and sound.

She wraps her arms around Velvet's body and presses her face to the back of her neck. Both of them are here now, warm and dry, and Eleanor can go back to sleep in peace.


	6. Chapter 6

The rain pounds against the cobblestone streets of the city with a force almost violent. Drops splatter upon impact, and freshly-made puddles splash as people run to take shelter, holding whatever they can over their heads as if that might protect them from the downpour.

Velvet looks out at the scene with some disdain. "This is why I hate this time of year," she mumbles. Despite the overhang shielding her from the worst of the rain, water still drips down her bangs into her face, and she swats at it with a grimace.

Next to her, Eleanor pulls her hair down from its pigtails and shakes her head vigorously. "Well, at least it's not-"

"Don't," Velvet says, glaring at the sky. "It can turn to hail in a heartbeat."

Eleanor hums as she runs her fingers through her hair. "I wish it would turn to snow. That actually wouldn't be so bad..."

The clatter of a large door opening interrupts their conversation, and a young man steps out of the nearby church.

"Brothers and sisters, all are welcome in the sanctuary!" he calls over the pounding of the rain. "Those seeking shelter from the storm are invited inside for however long they need."

Immediately a few other people in the square cross over to follow him inside. Eleanor and Velvet look at each other.

"We might as well," Eleanor says. "I really don't want to walk home in this, and it's so _cold_ out here."

Velvet grumbles, tightening her grip around the burlap bag of groceries in her hand, but doesn't disagree. When Eleanor takes off at a fast trot toward the steps of the church, Velvet follows.

Luckily the short walk doesn't make them much wetter than they already were. Less fortunate townsfolk are accepting the towels offered by the priests to dry themselves off, and a couple children are huddling under blankets on some of the pews. Toward the front of the church it looks like a few people are actually there to pray or consult with the priests, but other than that, the large room is mostly empty.

Eleanor sits down on one of the rearmost benches and sighs. "Much better."

"This better not last long," Velvet mutters, sitting next to her.

For a few minutes they listen to the hushed chatter of the other townspeople around them. Eleanor gazes around at the rows of wooden pews, the simple yet elegant pillars, the altar at the far end lit by rows of flickering candles.

"Have you been here before?" she asks.

Velvet murmurs, "Not really." After a moment she goes on, "Aball never had a church, just some organized worship. My family was never much for prayer anyway."

"Mm." Eleanor continues to watch the staff in conversation with the damp townspeople. "The priests seem nice enough."

"Maybe," Velvet grumbles. Eleanor looks at her. "Religious types tend to be the most afraid of the supernatural," she explains in a lower voice. "A lot of them hate demons on principle."

She expects Eleanor to question that assumption, or argue in the priests' defense - _you never know until you talk to them, they might be more understanding than you think_ \- but instead she looks down at her lap and says in a small voice, "Oh. I guess that's..."

Natural? Discouraging? As good an excuse as any? She doesn't continue, and Velvet doesn't ask.

The rain outside continues to come down heavily, audible inside the large and quiet room. Velvet's fingers fiddle with the top of the sack of groceries as she stares at the far wall. Eleanor glances at her.

"You belong here as much as anyone else," the exorcist says quietly. Velvet's eyes flick to her for a brief moment, and Eleanor adds, "I just want you to know that."

Velvet's hand tightens around the sack's neck, and then relaxes. "I know," she says.

Eleanor smiles. Her hand drifts off her thigh and towards Velvet's, just close enough to brush the fabric of her thick winter pants, before returning to its safe and unsuspect place in Eleanor's lap. Though they've barely touched, Velvet understands the message.

She says again, under her breath, "I know."

 

* * *

 

The fresh snow is beautiful first thing in the morning, sparkling white under a pale blue sky. Eleanor stands in front of the window gazing at the scene for so long she almost forgets what time it is.

What pulls her attention back inside the house is the sound of Velvet yawning. Eleanor looks aside to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her unruly hair and trying to blink her eyes open.

"Good morning," Eleanor says without moving from the window.

"Thanks for starting the fire," Velvet answers, and forces herself to her feet. "It's so damn cold- Oh, it snowed? No wonder."

She stops next to Eleanor, squinting out the window.

"I was just admiring how beautiful it is," Eleanor says.

When Velvet snorts, Eleanor can feel the rush of air on her neck. "Yeah, get that out of the way now. You'll be sick of it soon enough."

The words are as cynical as ever, but Eleanor senses a note of lightness in them that keeps her from arguing. Besides, her mind is more focused right now on Velvet lingering behind her, practically close enough to feel the heat of her body.

Without replying, Eleanor leans back until she's pressed up against her torso. Immediately Velvet's arms snake around her waist and her lips touch the patch of skin on Eleanor's shoulder where her nightgown has slipped down. Eleanor closes her eyes.

All too soon Velvet's arms unwind and she straightens back up. "I'll start breakfast," she says, before the warmth of her body disappears from Eleanor's back. Eleanor turns to watch her take the last few steps to the kitchen, almost with a bounce in her step - though that could just be the result of her bare feet touching the chilly wooden floor.

She can't help but smile just looking at her. So much of the time Velvet exudes bitterness, a haze of angry thoughts surrounding her like a dark mist she can't shake. When she talks about the past there's blood on her hands and venom on her tongue and such a deep regret in her eyes.

But the cloud is starting to dissipate, little by little. Eleanor can see it fade with every smile that breaks through, and her laugh is like sunlight, unexpectedly warm. She probably doesn't notice it herself, but Velvet really is changing.

And she's not the only one. Eleanor looks back outside at the blanket of snow surrounding the house. When she first came here in the long days of late summer, she never could have imagined staying this long. In her mind, she was going to dispatch the werewolves lurking around the city and then probably move on to somewhere else that needed her.

Currently the city's werewolf is humming under her breath as she cracks eggs into a pan. Her long black hair still bears some traces of last night's braid, a few stands loosely woven together despite the rest of it coming undone into a wavy mass. Eleanor can't imagine Taliesin without her.

No, exterminating demons and saving people aren't one and the same. Eleanor knows that now. Perhaps there are pursuits more noble than fighting humanity's enemies, a better way to dispel the darkness in the world. Perhaps that's where Eleanor's path truly lies.

Any she can't think of anywhere she'd rather do that than here.

 

* * *

 

There's not much to do on stormy winter evenings except stay in and talk until bedtime. Tonight Velvet has opted to let the fire burn down and instead cover them both in blankets to keep warm.

At least, it had started out as talking. At some point - Eleanor can't quite remember when - her mouth got a little distracted.

Not as distracted as Velvet's, which has moved on from Eleanor's lips to trail kisses along her jaw. Even now that her tongue is free again, Eleanor can't think to do much more than cling to Velvet's shoulders, and the room is quiet but for the occasional gust of wind and Eleanor's quickened breaths.

The noise that rumbles from Velvet's throat sounds almost like a growl, and Eleanor can feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Velvet continues down that neck to her shoulder, soft and then nipping slightly, and Eleanor jolts.

"V-Velvet," she says, voice strained. Velvet doesn't raise her head but looks up only with her eyes, which... really doesn't help.

She can feel Velvet's breath against her skin. "What?"

Eleanor pauses. "You're going to think this is stupid, but..."

The room goes quiet. Velvet repeats, more forcefully, _"What?"_

"Isn't... Isn't lycanthropy transmitted through bites?"

Velvet blinks. "Usually, yeah." Then understanding seems to dawn on her, and she clarifies, _"Wolf_ bites. It's highly unlikely you'd get it from a healthy, human-form werewolf. Except maybe around a scarlet night."

Still, Eleanor doesn't look any less concerned. "Are you sure? Because I..."

"If you don't believe me, I can stop."

Velvet leans back, face impassive, and immediately Eleanor reaches out to her. "N-No, I don't want you to stop, I just..." Her voice drops to barely more than a whisper. "I don't think I could handle being a werewolf."

Her heart pounds in the ensuing silence - from the tingling memory of what Velvet was just doing with her mouth, or fear of Velvet's reaction, she's not sure. Finally, Velvet looks away and sits up a little more. "Yeah, well. Most people can't." Suddenly she's peering at Eleanor more inquisitively. "I thought exorcists were supposed to be immune or something?"

"Um, well... I've heard that too, but I never exactly... tested it."

For a moment there's something almost predatory in Velvet's eyes, that leaves Eleanor's chest thrumming. Then Velvet shifts to sit next to her, sighing silently.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you need me to... stay away from you-"

"No!" Even Eleanor is surprised at how quickly she moves to clutch Velvet's hand. "I want to be with you. I just don't want to... take any chances. I'm sorry, I know it's unreasonable-"

"It's not unreasonable." Velvet's voice is bitter. "People do far worse to avoid risking infection."

Her fingers tighten around Eleanor's, though she remains staring at the wall across from her. Something tightens inside Eleanor's chest, too.

How many years has Velvet been completely alone? Hiding what she is from everyone, afraid to get too close, just in case someone has the wrong reaction - violent, or frightened, or maybe just passively negative, like Eleanor right now -

Velvet jolts when Eleanor slides an arm back around her waist, leaning in to kiss her neck. "You know, it's not that big of a deal. I trust you. Besides... you're worth it."

She pulls back only a little, and Velvet's head whips around, eyes wide. Eleanor smiles.

"Like I said, I don't want you to stop. So if you feel like continuing where we left off..."

Almost immediately, Velvet has her pushed back against the pillows again, toned arms pinning her in place. Somewhere between her surprise and the reeling sensation, Eleanor feels a twinge of excitement.

Velvet remains hovering above her, nose only centimeters away from Eleanor's, breath tickling her lips. She leans in again for a kiss and then pulls back slowly, a purring growl reverberating in her throat. Looking into her half-lidded eyes, Eleanor can scarcely breathe.

"I'll _try_ not to bite you," Velvet whispers. "But you're awfully hard to resist, you know..."

_Empyreans,_ Eleanor thinks, and decides right then that being human is overrated anyway.

 

* * *

 

The sound of seagulls squawking resounds in the chilly air of the port, and the birds huddle on the icy walls of the staircase leading to the docks. Eleanor walks down slowly; though most of the streets have been cleared admirably, the stairs are still a little precarious for her liking.

The closer she gets to the water, though, the less snow she finds, and the docks are almost dry. Despite the cold sea breeze, people bustle around the stalls set up along the harbor. The water lapping against the stones is almost drowned out by families talking and shopkeepers advertising their wares.

Eleanor is just passing a stand of fresh seafood, wondering what kind of fish is in season, when a voice catches her attention.

"Oh! You're the exorcist, aren't you?"

She turns around to see a young man carrying what appears to be a rather heavy crate, stopped in the road to look at her.

"Um, yes, I am..." Eleanor replies. Nothing about him rings familiar.

Luckily, before she has to ask, the man smiles and explains, "I was on the ship that brought you here. You probably don't remember me, there are so many of us. But I kept thinking I'd seen you before."

Eleanor's eyes light up. "Oh, that's right! You're part of the crew. You're still here?"

The man shifts the crate in his arms, briefly bracing it against one raised knee. "Yep, extended shore leave. We're off again tomorrow, though. I'm surprised _you're_ still here."

"Yes, well..." Eleanor rubs at her sleeve, glancing away. "I suppose I'm living here now."

"Ah. Won't be needing a ride back to Midgand anytime soon, then?"

At that Eleanor smiles, though a faint blush remains on her cheeks. "No, I should hope not. Not anytime soon."

When they've wished each other well and gone their separate ways, Eleanor returns to her shopping, but her mind keeps drifting from the fish and clothing and baskets in the stalls. It's true that she hasn't even thought about returning to Midgand since her brief fight with Velvet weeks ago. But it's still a little strange to think of Taliesin as her permanent, or at least long-term, home.

Sometimes it surprises her how used to her new routine she's become. She works odd jobs in town, and Velvet hunts in the woods. Both of them prepare meals and take care of the house, and they always have the evenings to themselves, to spend in front of the fire or cuddled up in bed. Once a month Velvet will disappear, but she always comes back in the morning to collapse into Eleanor's waiting arms.

It's not the kind of life she had ever envisioned for herself, but it's peaceful. It's... normal. And it makes her happier than she can remember being since she was a child.

The nagging, rational part of her mind tugs at her consciousness with the knowledge that it can't last forever. Nothing does, after all, and she's still quite young. But for now, she knows, she has no intention of leaving Eastgand - no intention of leaving Velvet.

Not anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

The exorcist stays in Taliesin through the winter.

The nights grow long, and then gradually shorten, though the snow falls and melts and falls again. When it starts to pile up, Velvet agrees to spend a little less time in the woods and a little more at home. The extra set of hands to shovel and the additional hours of lit fires keep the door and windows from freezing shut and breathe a new sense of life into the house somehow.

Eleanor surprises Velvet with a steaming bath or hot soup when she comes in from the cold, and Velvet surprises Eleanor with a new fur coat. The thermometer proves the temperature is as low as ever, and yet somehow Velvet barely feels it. The bone-deep chill that made her past winters so miserable is missing - something about the wind, or her patched clothes, or the warmth of two bodies sharing sheets.

When she reflects on it, wiping down the kitchen counter after lunch, nothing much has changed. It's the same town, same house, same job. Same life. But the weight of her secret presses on her shoulders a little less than it used to, she thinks. She can see now that she really has missed having someone to whisper to late at night, someone to share knowing glances and friendly touches with.

She stops scrubbing at the counter and stares down at the smooth wooden surface. It reflects a faint shadow, the smudged outline of her own face.

It's the face of a werewolf. She is a demon.

Her life goes on anyway.

Across the room, Eleanor sits near the fire, reading a book on woodworking or something similar. Velvet watches her for a few minutes, then lets her gaze drift to the window.

Eventually, she says, "Maybe the thaw _is_ going to be earlier than usual. It's been a while since the last time it snowed."

All is quiet outside. Half the landscape is still covered in patches and mounds of white, the lingering remnants of last week's storm, but the clearings where the sun gets through are bare and almost dry.

"I was wondering if it's too early to hope for that," Eleanor says. "Have you seen the flowers growing in the garden? They must think it's almost spring. I hope they don't freeze."

Velvet looks for them the next time she goes out. Sure enough, there are already thin green stalks defiantly pushing through the frosty soil into the sunlight.

She looks around. The air still carries a chill, but the skies have been clear for several days. They really could make it.

After that, Velvet makes sure to check on them every day, waiting to see them bloom. For the first time in a long time, she's looking forward to this coming year.


End file.
